A Cornered Gurl
Published in

A Cornered Gurl

— an anecdote of potpourris.

“Best Before”

Answer me this: am I sick?

Photo by Gantas Vaičiulėnas from Pexels

Best before: 2023.12.25

That’s an odd number. 25–12–23. Why that day? Why that specific number? That doesn’t even make any sense, what’s so special about it? Is it because it’s Christmas?

December 25, 2023. That’s a crazy number, I’d be 23 then! Maybe the rest of the label tells a hint.

Gardenia-Scented Body Wash.

Why did they call it gardenia? It is flowery, but is this what an entire garden would smell like? I never had a garden big enough to tell which scent goes to which flower.

Is gardenia a flower? Does this have anything to do with the Christmas thing? No, this doesn’t have anything to do with the Christmas thing. Why did I buy gardenia; I don’t even know what that is.

Best before: 2023.12.25

December 25th, 2023. My birthday is just a week before that. Did they set the date to be near my birthday? Did they know I was going to buy this specific bottle? No that doesn’t make any sense at all. I’m just paranoid. Why would they choose me?

Are they choosing me, though? But why would they reveal themselves through a body wash? Who are “they”? Maybe this is a test. If I call the customer support and reveal the answer, I’ll win a gold medal. Wait they don’t give medals anymore, do they?

“Best before.”

Three years from now. Why then? If the bottle is tainted somehow, it wouldn’t be any good — even after a year. What’s in this bottle that makes it go bad within three years? I’m not a chemist, if I read the label I’ll only know water. But why three years?

It would be nice I guess if people were born with a “best before” label tattooed on them. We all know what they say, it’s best for us to just live our lives as best as we can, appreciate everything we have before our time runs out, and that somehow it’s always better to not know when you’re gonna go.

It’s nonsense to me. Everyone is always trying to know. If they were given the chance — without any odds or bets, I’m sure nine out of ten will take a peek. It’s just about making our lives worthwhile. I guess you really can have multiple meanings in a simple written sentence.

What would my number be? Would I go on the same day as this body wash? I’m gonna need more time if the answer is yes. I should’ve gotten another bottle, the one with a longer span. Or should I have bought several?

I turned my faucet off and got out of the shower. Patted myself dry as best as I could while those thoughts kept swallowing me whole. Why am I thinking about that anyway? There are other things wasting about other than when my gardenia body wash — or whatever the scent is actually from — is gonna go bad.

Why am I so fixating on what’s already been said and done? Why can’t I just look . . . beyond?

I gazed in the mirror. I stared at the not-so-gleaming eyes staring deeply into me. The two lifeless brown orbs that always took things for granted. These wrinkles wouldn’t exist if I keep my mind steady to where it should’ve gone to, and not keep agreeing to where it wants to go.

It was a good shower thought, though. It would be cool if humans were born with their expiry date tattooed across their faces. Imagine the lives we’d appreciate more.

Well if I think about it, maybe just not on the face.



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